All You Need is Hugs
by SisAngel
Summary: Years before Big Time Rush, Carlos unknowingly saved Logan's life when he gave him what Logan himself didn't even know he needed: a hug. Rated T for attempted suicide. NO SLASH


**I decided to experiment with the POV for this. I've never written in the POV of the story teller before. It was fun :D**

**Dedicated to my best friend TotallyLosingIt because...**

**1. She got me addicted to/obsessed with this show (I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF THEM.)**

**2. She bought me Elevate for my birthday (*SQUEE*)**

**3. She wrote me an EPIC BTR/Psych crossover for my birthday (*SQUEES AGAIN*)**

**4. She is my Carlos :) *glomps her***

**GO READ HER FICS. SHE IS AWESOMESAUCE.**

**Enjoy! :D**

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><p>I couldn't take it anymore. It seemed like whatever I did I screwed up. I was pathetic and I didn't understand why you guys still spoke to me, why you three would want to be around someone that didn't even want to be around himself. The pressures my parents and teachers put on me was suffocating. They were disappointed in me whenever I got anything less than 98% on anything. The lower my grade dropped, the more worthless I would feel. But the better I did in school, the worse the teasing and beatings got. Not from my parents, they never laid a finger on me, just looked at me with so much disappointment in their eyes that it made me sick. No, I'm talking about the jerks who went behind the gym to smoke and who slammed me into the walls of the rink every chance they got at hockey practice. What they did to me never stopped, no matter how many times you guys stood up for me or threatened them. Actually, they got worse every time you did, I just got better at hiding it. They would take me behind the gym and beat me until I blacked out, calling me names the entire time. When I came to in the nurse's office with the three of you surrounding me with worried eyes, demanding to know what happened, I blamed it on not eating breakfast and you guys seemed to accept that. It's not your fault, I was lying to you guys and there wasn't a mark on my face or arms, you had no idea. Why do you think it seemed to stop after I became friends with that kid from the drama club? He gave me some acting classes. I told him it was so I could lie to my parents. Of course, being friends with a kid everyone bullies because they think he's gay probably wasn't such a great idea. The beatings actually got worse after that. The only reason they never hospitalized me was because they would wait until I was healed from the last time before they would do it again. And it wasn't just physical, it was verbal and, in turn, psychological. They had me believing I was a freak for being smart and good at sports, that I was a loser that you guys only hung out with because you pitied me. That mixed with feeling worthless because of my parents is a recipe for disaster. And that's what almost happened.<p>

I was sitting on my bed, balled up with my arms around my waist, crying uncontrollably. For at least the last hour I had been trying to talk myself into downing the bottle of Tylenol that I had on my nightstand, or to make a noose our of my hockey jersey, or to go to the kitchen, turn on the gas and take a few deep breaths. I had been thinking about all of that for weeks, imagining each scenario and how I would be found, by whom, how they would react. Would they cry? Would they be relieved? I honestly didn't know. And I felt like such a coward because I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I was scared of dying, but I was just as afraid of living through another day of my hell.

That thought convinced me. I was home alone and would be the whole weekend, so I decided that this was it. I figured I could do it without any interruptions or the possibility that someone would find me and stop me. My mind set, I grabbed a notebook and a pen from my backpack began to writing. The floodgates opened and I started writing down everything. Every frustration, fear and weakness I had and begged for forgiveness for every mistake I made, including the one I was about to make. I addressed each one of you in turn, telling you each everything I had ever wanted to. Confessing every sin, every secret, and everything I felt for each of you. Though I hadn't believed you all felt the same since we were small, I had always thought of you as my brothers, and I told you all that. I spilled my guts in that letter as tears poured from my eyes, staining the page and causing the blue and red lines to bleed into the stark white. I filled both sides of the paper with my neat handwriting before I signed a valediction. A simple "goodbye" was too cold, I thought, so I just said "I'm sorry."

I tore the page out half-hazardly and went downstairs to the kitchen. The moment I stepped into the kitchen my eyes locked on the knife block to the left of the stove. They were so tempting, the metal on the black handles shining in the afternoon sun that filtered in through the sheer curtains in the window behind the sink. I clenched my clammy hands into fists and slowly inched forward until I stood in front of the counter. My hand shook violently as I reached out and took hold of the paring knife, slowly unsheathing it from the block of wood. I realized I had tears streaming down my face only seconds before the first sob wracked my body. I turned around, leaning my back against the counter and sliding down to the floor as I studied the knife in my hands. I was sobbing as I pulled my legs up against my chest and laid my chin upon my knees. I really was so afraid to die, but I was more afraid of staying where I was. I was scared of screwing up again, scared of my parents finding out that I got a 95 on my last science test, scared of going to school on Monday and the beating I was sure to get from my tormentors.

I sniffled and choked on a sob as I brought the blade to my neck, pressing the dull edge of the cold blade to my jugular. According to my biology textbook, if I cut this artery I would bleed out faster than I would if I slit my wrists. I had given this a lot of thought. I was determined to make this quick and leave no time for someone to interfere again.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly turned the knife around in my hand so that the sharp edge was barely brushing against the skin of my neck, not hard enough to break the skin but enough that a shiver ran down my sine at the sensation of cold metal against my hot skin. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. I thought about the goodbye letter. I clutched it in my hand, crumbling the paper and cutting my palm on the edge of it as I did. But I didn't care. It would all be over soon.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, bracing myself for what I was about to do.

And then I heard a knock on the door.

I opened my eyes, astonished. Who was interrupting me? Did they not realize I was trying to kill myself? Well, obviously not, but still, couldn't I be left alone for just a minute? When they knocked again, this time harder, I knew they weren't going to go away. I sighed and threw the knife down in frustration, the metal blade clattering on the hard tile. When would it end if not now? Would I ever have the courage to come this close again?

I stood up on shaking legs and stuffed the note into my pocket as I made my way into the foyer. My brow furrowed in confusion when I saw the shape of that familiar helmet through the frosted glass of the door. Why were you there? Why would you want to hang out with me when you didn't have to?

I quickly wiped my face free of tears before I opened the door a crack and peeked out, looking you up and down curiously. "What are you doing here?" I asked, wincing at the scratchy sound of my voice.

"To see you, silly!" you said with your usual cheerfulness. You couldn't see how broken I was. You didn't even notice my pale skin or the bags under my eyes. But that's not your fault, you're just innocent. And I've always loved that about you.

"R-really?" I asked, studying you suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just 'cause," you said, sticking your hands into the pockets of your hoodie and rocking back and forth on your heels. "Can I come in? Or do you want to come out? I brought fruit gummies!" you said excitedly, pulling a zip-loc bag out of your pocket and jiggling the colorful contents in front of my face.

"Um…well, I was trying to take a nap…" I said, unsure of how I was supposed to get you to go away so I could finish my task before I lost the courage. I couldn't very well say "Go away, I was in the middle of killing myself."

"Oh I'm sorry!" you said, your expressive brown eyes suddenly shining with regret. You seemed nervous for some reason as you stood there, like your original plan had been ruined by the revelation that you had woke me up. "I'll just…"

You bit your lip and stepped forward, unexpectedly gathering me into a tight hug. I stood stiffly in your embrace, taken completely off guard by the sudden gesture. After a long moment I reached up and awkwardly patted you on the back.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

That seemed to snap you out of whatever state you were in because you let go and stepped back, your round cheeks glowing bright red.

"Sorry," you said, staring at your feet. "You just…looked like you needed a hug. You always look like you need a hug, so…"

As you trailed off I just stared at you, dumbfounded. For someone so ADD you certainly are observant. Without another word you turned around and started down the walkway, hands in your pockets and head bowed in embarrassment. My heart was still screaming in pain and sorrow, but all of a sudden, that wasn't the only thing I was feeling. I felt…loved. For the first time in a long time I felt like someone truly saw me. I felt visible again. And it felt amazing.

"Hey," I called, and you turned around swiftly, your eyes betraying your eagerness to help me. Seeing that instantly warmed me. "You wanna come in?"

Your face lit up with a wide grin and you nodded. "Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~BTR~~~~~~~~~~~~~BTR~~~~~~~~~~~~~BTR~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carlos' face was contorted as he blubbered, his red cheeks soaked with tears. He sat facing Logan on his bed, both of them sitting with their legs folded up Indian style and facing each other. Logan was studying the wrinkled notebook paper covered in his own handwriting, smiling fondly.

"I only kept it to remind me of that day, of how you seemed to just know that I needed that hug. That moment reminded me that I had people that loved me regardless of everything I did or couldn't do," Logan explained, looking up at Carlos with a guilty smile. "I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't think anyone would ever find it. It was a long time ago, I promise I don't feel this way anymore."

Carlos' bottom lip trembled as he nodded in understanding and forgiveness. Without warning he threw his arms around Logan, clinging to the boy so tight he caused him to let out a very un-manly squeak. Logan smiled and hugged Carlos back just as tightly.

"I'm glad," Carlos finally spoke, his voice cracking with emotion. "And I'm glad you didn't do it 'cause I would miss you."

"I'd miss you, too," he chuckled, but he meant it. "And, Carlos?"

The Latino pulled away enough to look at his friend with a happy smile. "Yeah?"

Logan smiled warmly, eyes full of sincerity. "Thanks for the hugs."

Carlos just grinned and tackled Logan with another hug, causing both boys to fall back off the bed. They landed on the floor in a heap, the room filling with laughter.


End file.
